Vignette Effect
by bebeginja
Summary: Twenty-five flashfics in three months. Each story 300-500 words, all unrelated to each other. Based on prompts for the Twilight Twenty-Five challenge, Round 8. *All mistakes are mine. I do not claim ownership of any of the Twilight characters."
1. Prompt 17 At The Rink

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**thetwilight25 dot com**

**Prompt: #17**

**Pen Name: bebeginja**

**Pairing/Character(s): E/B**

**Rating: T**

**Word Count: 500**

**Photo prompts can be found here:**

**thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts**

* * *

"Let's go, let's go!" Alice bounced on my porch when I opened the door. Her hair was teased up in a side pony tail, and her eyelids sparkled with glitter.

"Alright, jeesh. I can't believe you talked me into this." I rolled my eyes as she grabbed my hand and pulled me to her dad's car.

~*o*~

The line to get in was already out the door, as antsy Forks Middle School kids waited to show off their skating skills. I personally felt like we were a little too old for roller skating, but it was our back-to-school social night sponsored by the PTA. And Alice was all about being social.

"Size six, please," I said to the old guy behind the shoe counter.

"Bella," Alice said as she laced up behind me, "he's here!"

I turned around and followed her line of sight. Edward stood near the arcade games with his back to us. I shrugged like I didn't care, and tried not to make it obvious when I fluffed my crimped hair and pulled my cut out sweatshirt down a little further off my shoulder.

~*o*~

After winning a game of Four Corners, Alice and I made our way to the concessions bar to claim our free drink prize. We found a table next to the rink wall as the boys-only round started.

"Oh my god, look at Edward and Jasper!" Alice yelled, giggling and pointing. The boys were weaving in front of people to "Another One Bites The Dust" as the disco ball reflected spinning dots of color onto the floor. Edward blushed when he saw me, and shoved his hands in his pockets. Jasper crouched down into a shoot-the-duck, and pointed at Alice with his fingers in the shape of a gun. Alice nearly fell backward laughing, and I smiled around my straw as the boys passed by.

~*o*~

"Aaaalrighty kids, it's tiiiime for _Snooooowballllll_!" The dj blared over the p.a. system. I waved Alice off, using the bathroom as my excuse to avoid all things boy related. Just thinking about holding hands and skating with a boy, possibly Edward, made my stomach hurt.

I stood in front of the quarter prize machines, swaying to "Time After Time", hoping to get my birth stone as I twisted the dial. My prize slid down and out the shoot, flying right past me.

"Dangit!" I said, squinting into the dim light.

"I got it," I heard someone say behind me.

Just as I turned around, I saw Edward on his knees. "Aha!" he exclaimed. He started to stand, but froze when he saw me. He held the small metal ring with a fake stone out in front of him.

I will never forget that night, or the sight of Edward like that.

Years later, we'd visit that very rink the year before they tore it down. We'd skate holding hands. And he would mimic that same position, holding a real ring with a real diamond, while Cyndi Lauper's voice echoed overhead.


	2. Prompt 23 On The Roof

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**thetwilight25 dot com**

**Prompt: #23**

**Pen Name: bebeginja**

**Pairing/Character(s): E/B**

**Rating: T**

**Word Count: 497**

**Photo prompts can be found here:**

**thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts**

* * *

They're at it again. Arguing behind the closed door of their bedroom, trying to hide their hostility like I'm too young to understand. I lie on my bed listening to their muffled voices rise and fall. Renee wants to leave. Charlie won't give up on their love. She keeps secrets, manipulates him, and he enables it all.

I'm over it. I've lost respect for them both. I'm poisoned with resentment of the supposed secrecy of it all.

I roll myself off my bed and grab the pack of smokes off my dresser. I push my small window open and hoist myself up onto my headboard to push myself out onto the roof above the garage. The tension in this house is suffocating.

Why do they even stay together at all? For me? Because _that_ would be a joke. I've become a shadow on the wall. I'm flying low on the radar until I can leave this place and make it out on my own.

There's only one person who knows how I feel and doesn't ask questions. One person I can stand to be around at any given time of the day, no matter what is going on in my life.

Edward.

I light a cigarette and pull out my phone to send him a text. "_Hey_."

A few seconds later, he replies. "_Hey_."

I exhale the smoke through a smirk and feel my body relax. From the nicotine or from his reply, I'm not sure. Just knowing he's there, like he always has been, is enough to ground me.

"_Take me away_." He would never interpret that as anything romantic. We're not like that. We've been inseparable since he moved here in the fifth grade. He knows me, and everything about my family. I just need his presence. It's the only thing I've ever been able to rely on.

"_Be there in 10_." When we were younger he'd ride his bike over to meet me in the woods behind my house, and we'd squash potato bugs, climb trees, and explore for hours.

From the rooftop, I see his old Mustang coming from two blocks down and I make my way back through my window and downstairs to the front door. The house is quiet, but their door is still closed. They won't even know I'm gone. They wouldn't care if they did.

I flop into the passenger seat wordlessly, and Edward starts driving. I love that we don't have to talk. No questions. I stare out the window, numb. I'm tired of being numb. Though we drive in silence, my racing thoughts create a deafening noise I cannot escape.

And then the noise quiets when I feel something−Edward's hand in my hand.

This is new.

I keep my face toward the window and close my eyes. I wasn't aware of how much I wanted him to do that until now.

Still silent, I squeeze his fingers, and allow a tear to run down my cheek.


	3. Prompt 13 Not Okay

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**thetwilight25 dot com**

**Prompt: #13**

**Pen Name: bebeginja**

**Pairing/Character(s): Bella/Jake**

**Rating: T**

**Word Count: 495**

**Photo prompts can be found here:**

**thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts**

* * *

White light filters through the blinds as I sit on the bed hugging my knees. I can't wait to wake up to clear blue sky. This constant cover of grey is oppressive.

I can hear the t.v. blaring downstairs. A football game. I yawn, stretch, and throw on a sweatshirt. I make my way down to the living room and flop onto the big comfy chair next to where you are sitting on the couch. You hold a Starbucks cup in one hand, while your thumb scrolls on your phone with the other.

A few minutes pass and you still haven't even acknowledged my presence.

I clear my throat. "You went for coffee?" I ask, glancing around hoping to see an extra one somewhere.

"Yeah, you were asleep," you say, without looking up.

I suppose that should piss me off a bit, but it doesn't. Instead it feels like another part of my spirit just died and is turning to stone. It is heavy inside me.

Without another word from either of us, I trod back upstairs to our bedroom, and sit on the edge of our bed.

This can't go on.

We barely speak, though I try. You don't come to bed at any decent hour, and you don't stick around when you wake. I used to feel your presence. I don't anymore. Loneliness, I've learned, feels like venom in my veins.

When did we become so disconnected? Why haven't you noticed?

That's the thing that gets me. You probably think everything's fine. Or, worse, you _know_ things aren't okay and you choose not to do or say anything about it. Either one of those scenarios leaves me abandoned.

We don't even "fight." Sometimes I wish we would. Sometimes I wish we'd just have it out, have words, throw things. That would hurt so much less than being ignored and pretending not to care. Fighting I know, but this—whatever it is—is acid to my soul.

I inhale deep and wrap my arms around myself. Waiting has exhausted me. Waiting for you to recognize what we are and are not, waiting for you to ask me how I really am because you really are wondering, waiting for you to realize we are not okay has slowly killed parts of me.

You've put out my fire, that's the problem. The fire to fight for anything. I used to be feisty. Passionate.

You used to be thoughtful.

I shake my head at myself. No, I've _allowed_ you to put out my fire. _That's_ the problem.

I feel a spark in the pit of my stomach, and resolve to go pick a fight with you. To lay it all on the line.

"Jake, I—"

Just as I clear the landing at the bottom of the first flight of stairs, I see the front door slam shut. I run over and look out the kitchen window.

I watch as you get into your car . . . and drive away.


	4. Prompt 8 Have A Drink

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**thetwilight25 dot com**

**Prompt: #8**

**Pen Name: bebeginja**

**Pairing/Character(s): Alice, Jake, Edward, Bella**

**Rating: M**

**Word Count: 500**

**Photo prompts can be found here:**

**thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts**

* * *

"Alice, what the hell?" Leather pants. There's no way I could pull those off. Or put them on.

"I just want it to sting a little. I don't want to look like I'm asking for sexual favors."

"Oh but don't you?" Alice giggled. I scowl. "Besides, are you kidding me? _Sting a little?_ Fuck that. I was there before, during, and after what Jake did to you. _I_ want it to hurt. I want him to see you and realize what he had, what he's missing, and who he messed with."

This is why I love Alice.

She primps, styles, and sprays. When she's done with . . . whatever it is Alice does . . . she finally turns me to the mirror. I'm stunned. Or, stunning, I should say. I'm made over, but still me. Just not Jake's me. I look matured. Like a girl who's learned a little something. I chuckle, because Jake is going to flip. He always wanted me _au naturel_. It's only after I caught him cheating that I discovered he actually prefers banging surgically enhanced Barbie look-alikes.

We arrive at the bar, and Alice leaves me hangin'. Do your thing, she said. Awesome. I see Jake at the other end filling martini glasses for a group of sorority girls, and cautiously step up between two of the stools.

"Bella?" Deep, smooth, velvet. I'd recognize that voice anywhere. I hear it almost every day at work.

I turn to see Dr. Cullen sitting on the stool to my right. "Lovely to see you here . . . and . . . " He waves his hand up and down in front of me.

"Dr. Cullen—"

"Edward, please," he begs. Okay, so he doesn't _beg_. I wish.

He shows off one of his notorious dimples, and suddenly my panties are wet. I am acutely aware of the sweat accumulating under my arms and hope I remembered deodorant. Damn, he's fine, and he knows it. My eyes catch the tip of his tongue as it swipes the corner of his mouth, and I'm instantly craving cotton candy.

"Let me get you a drink." I only hesitate until I remember he earns quarterly bonuses that are more than my annual salary. I also remember Jake, who has made his way to our end of the bar and is now staring at the side of my head. I lean closer to the doctor, keeping my eyes trained on his perfect face; his too-long lashes, and his five o'clock shadow. His collar bone peeks out from behind his black V-neck shirt.

As he orders our drinks, I flick my eyes briefly to Jake and flash him one raised eyebrow, before returning my attention to the doctor. Jake hesitates, and then leaves.

Edward's eyes slowly travel down to the length of my body and back up. "You wear vengeance well."

I smirk. He's figured it out, and he wants to play. Feeling bold, I answer, "I wear victory better. Put your hands on me, _Edward_."

Oh, yes, Alice will be so proud.


	5. Prompt 15 Good For Me

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**thetwilight25 dot com**

**Prompt: #15**

**Pen Name: bebeginja**

**Pairing/Character(s): E/B**

**Rating: T**

**Word Count: 492**

**Photo prompts can be found here:**

**thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts**

* * *

"B, I'm home." The heat from Edward's whispered breath wakes me, and I can feel his hand rubbing circles on my shoulder.

I open my eyes sleepily and glance at the clock. Twelve-thirty, another early ending date.

"Home so soon? Was it bad?" I roll over to my back, as he reaches up and moves hair out of my face.

"Is that frosting on your forehead?" He leans down and takes a sniff, and I do the same to his shirt. He smells of whiskey and smoke, no evidence of having made contact with anything feminine.

"We kind of had a cupcake war. She passed out two hours ago." I haven't missed that he's avoiding my question. "So . . . the date?"

His hand on my shoulder moves down, slowly brushing along my arm, and he takes my hand. He holds our hands palm to palm, and our fingers close in on each other.

Edward and I are close, but not usually this affectionate. Still, I meet his eyes to find them questioning mine. Maybe he's questioning himself.

"Wasn't going anywhere." He shrugs with one shoulder. "Didn't want to waste any more time."

Now his thumb is tracing a path across my knuckles. I've never been more aware of my own heartbeat than right now, in this moment. Laying on Edward's couch, holding hands, with his daughter asleep in her bedroom.

"I should get going," I say, but make no move to do so.

"Stay."

One word. I've known Edward for years and now he owns me with this one word.

"Here?" An awkward silence passes as I stare at our joined hands. "Tonight? I can come back later if you need me to watch—"

"Not for her. I mean, for her, too. But . . . " Edward pauses, frowns, and takes a deep breath, which reminds me to start breathing.

"Listen, B, thing is, you're good for us. For me." He pulls me up to sit and turns to face me. "I don't want to date," he says. That got my attention.

"Um, okay." So, he just wants me to be his permanent nanny? I'm so confused.

"I don't want to keep going out for the sake of being out and always be looking back, knowing everything I want is already right here." His thumb softly touches my chin, and he's staring at my mouth.

"Oh. Okay." I'm realizing now that this is why he's always home early. The dates aren't ending, he's been leaving them.

He blinks away. "We don't have to . . . I mean, I've got Mexican hot chocolate to go with those cupcakes. We can sit and talk. Just stay."

"How'd you know?" I ask.

"I've known for a while. I just haven't had the balls to ask," he says, chuckling.

"No, I mean the Mexican hot chocolate."

"Oh! She told me once." He nods toward her bedroom.

I smile. "Say you have marshmallows and I'll stay forever."

I already know I will.


	6. Prompt 19 In The Cemetery

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**thetwilight25 dot com**

**Prompt: #19**

**Pen Name: bebeginja**

**Pairing/Character(s): E/B**

**Rating: T**

**Word Count: 498**

**Photo prompts can be found here:**

**thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts**

* * *

Bella made her way down her street. Besides the roar of the crowd and the music of the marching band that echoed in the distance, the thud of her boots on concrete and her own frosted breath were the only sounds she could hear. She was thankful that most of the kids from her high school would be otherwise occupied with Friday night football. It meant she could walk the streets in peace without worrying about anyone seeing her, and having another reason to think she's weird. Not many kids her age actually _chose_ to hang out where she did. But, Bella welcomed the silence. Reason number one she enjoyed her time at the cemetery.

Her path had become so familiar she could walk it in her sleep. She had been meeting her new friend, Edward, there twice a week since she met him there a few months ago. He liked to hang out there, too. Reason number two she enjoyed her time at the cemetery.

Bella weaved her way between crosses and granite headstones, old and new, being careful not to step directly on gravesites. She spotted Edward up ahead, black hoodie pulled up and a cigarette hanging from his lips. It was late fall, and she was surrounded by the dead, but for the first time that night, Bella felt a chill.

"Bella." Edward greeted her, hands in his pockets, Chucks toeing the damp grass.

"Hi, Edward."

They stood for a moment, regarding each other as if it had been ages since their last meeting.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"Do you think I'm strange?" Bella asked. They were lying on a blanket under the big willow; her on her stomach, him on his back next to her. Usually they'd read to each other, make lists, ask questions. They had become very comfortable very fast.

"Strange? No. Extraordinary? Yes." Edward had never felt so drawn to anyone before like he was to Bella. He had never met anyone like her. "_Exquisite, captivating, irresistible . . . mine_," he wanted to add.

He rolled to his side and propped himself up to face her. "What frightens you, Bella?"

"Edward, I'm in a cemetery at night with a boy I barely know. Nothing really frightens me."

"You know enough," he said sternly.

"Enough for what?" she asked, though by now she was used to such cryptic remarks coming from him.

He studied her face for a moment, searching her eyes for a contradiction. He leaned in, and for a moment Bella thought he might be making a move to kiss her. "_Finally!_" she thought. Instead, he rose to his feet and reached down to help her up.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes," she answered without hesitation.

Edward led her by the hand until they come to a stop in front of a cluster of neglected gravestones near the back of the cemetery. He directed Bella to the small one on the end.

"Read it," he said.

Bella approached, confused.

**~Edward Anthony Masen~**

Beloved Son

_1901 – 1918_


	7. Prompt 9 Hold My Hand

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**thetwilight25 dot com**

**Prompt: #9**

**Pen Name: bebeginja**

**Pairing/Character(s): Bella, Jasper, Edward**

**Rating: M**

**Word Count: 499**

**Photo prompts can be found here:**

**thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts**

* * *

I should have told him before it was too late.

I should have been bolder. Braver.

I should have taken the risk and had the conversation.

But instead, I kissed him. In front of everyone. Humiliated him. Scared him away.

This whirlwind of emotions overwhelms me. I've lost all sense of boundary—I don't know what's okay and what's not; what's normal, what's acceptable, and what's not. Am I creating something out of nothing in my head?

I think I first realized I had special feelings for Edward when we were twelve. He stood up to Tyler Crowley on my behalf when he knocked over my bike and spit cherry pits in my hair. From that point forward, he looked out for me.

And then there was the summer he taught me how to swing a bat properly so I could participate in the neighborhood baseball games. When I hit my first ball over the fence, he was so proud. He picked me up and put me on his shoulder and ran around the bases. I hooted and hollered and felt on top of the world.

My feelings intensified the night Edward called _me_ when his highly anticipated first date ditched him. He was so excited she finally said yes. I could never admit I was jealous. We hung out and played video games. Nothing particularly amazing to anyone else, but I treasured every one of those moments.

It doesn't matter now, I've ruined everything anyway, I think to myself, as I stare pathetically out the window. I imagine I look like the star of a sad country music video, but I could care less. I'm feeling every bit of the things those songs declare. My stomach feels like it's wrapped in barbed wire, and my heart feels like it's been graffitied over and the paint is running, dripping all over my other internal organs.

What a sap, a weakling, I tell myself, sniffling and shaking my head at my reflection in the glass. What was I thinking? I know Edward, probably better than most. I know he doesn't feel the same way I do. He'd never return the feelings I have.

And now here we are, a week before graduation, and he'll likely never speak to me again. I've lost my best friend.

I hear the creek of my door opening behind me but don't turn to look. The couch dips beside me and a small, feminine hand takes hold of mine.

"Jasper," Bella says. "It's gonna be fine, just give him some time."

"I am such an asshole, Bella. I wouldn't blame him for hating me. What a fucking mess."

"Jas, stop. He'll be back. You'll work this out. Your friendship means too much to him."

"Friendship? Ha! What kind of a friend am I to do something like this?"

"Hey, we love who we love, we can't help that."

Bella looks away, and by the redness of her eyes I know . . . she must love him, too.


	8. Prompt 5 Not Ready

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**thetwilight25 dot com**

**Prompt: #5**

**Pen Name: bebeginja**

**Pairing/Character(s): Esme/Carlisle, Emmett/Rose**

**Rating: T**

**Word Count: 499**

**Photo prompts can be found here:**

**thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts**

* * *

"Carlisle—" I choke on a sob and cover my mouth.

"Sweetheart, what is it? What's wrong?"

I can't speak without crying, so I don't speak.

"Are you ok?" I hear keys jingle. He must be getting up to leave. "Esme, are you there?"

"I'm here," I whisper, taking a moment to compose myself. "I'm here, don't leave. I just . . . I just had . . . a moment. And I needed to hear your voice."

I hear him sigh in relief, and imagine the tension falling from his shoulders. "Where are you? What happened?"

"I'm in the car. I pulled off to call you. I was out running errands and was passing by the high school right at dismissal time. So, naturally I started looking for Emmett and Rose, but there were so many kids. Then, as I was already a block away, I saw them. Or, rather, I saw her. Oh, Carlisle!" I struggle to rein in the tears again. I'm thankful for my husband's patience as he gives me time to find my words. "I'm not ready."

There's a pause before Carlisle responds. "Not ready for what?"

"I just, it was like slow motion. Everything slowed as I passed them. I caught sight of Rose's hair. Em was picking her up. He threw her over his shoulder and started running. They were laughing, mouths wide open, having fun. I don't know, goofing off. It made me smile."

"And now you're crying," Carlisle says. It's not a question, but he still sounds confused.

I dig out a tissue from the glove box and blow my nose.

"Well, all these emotions just hit me all at once. I mean, just yesterday we were bringing him home from the hospital. Checking his breath with a mirror while he slept. And then I saw them, and I thought about his tender heart. About how proud I am of the man he's becoming. How he treats her. He's so selfless with her, with all of us, really. He's such a good kid, isn't he? I mean, _we_ did that, right?"

Carlisle murmurs an approval as I continue with my emotional word vomit.

"And I thought of _you_ and what an amazing husband and father you are, and _that_ made me cry some more. And I thought about how we only have a couple more years before he's all grown up and out of the house and . . . and . . . I'm NOT READY!" At this point I'm grateful that Carlisle and I are still best friends. No man wants to deal with a sobbing wreck of a wife in the middle of his work day.

A knocking at my window startles me. I look up to see Em peering through the glass, a look of concern on his face. I tell Carlisle I'm okay and hang up, and then open the door. Em ducks down into the car.

"Ma, you okay?"

"Yeah, baby, I'm fine."

His strong arms wrap around me into a big bear hug.

"Love you, ma."


	9. Prompt 2 They Were Here

The Twilight Twenty-Five

thetwilight25 dot com

Prompt: #2

Pen Name: bebeginja

Pairing/Character(s): Edward/Bella

Rating: M

Word Count: 453

Photo prompts can be found here:

thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts

* * *

My heart drops, and every muscle in my body is instantly poised for action the moment I go to unlock the front door. Because it's already open. The house is dark. The hairs on the back of my neck stand as instinct and experience communicate to my brain that something is wrong.

There is no damage to the door jam, so it was either opened from within, or the intruder entered another way and left through the front.

I reach back under my jacket and draw my SIG 220, and slowly push the door open. I glance around quickly; first to the stairs, then to the doorway leading to the kitchen, and then to the living room. There is no movement or sound coming from the house.

With my safety switch still on, I make my way past the stairwell and down the hallway to the kitchen. The house is a mess. Cabinet doors and drawers are open, their contents spilled across the hardwood floor. Not even the bathroom has been spared. Moving on, I come to the bedroom. The mattress has been flipped, and the closet has been ransacked. By the light of the street lamp outside, I can see old photos from a box on the top shelf now scattered on the floor. Bella's jewelry box is turned over. They were either looking for something, or making it look like they were.

With my back against the wall, I climb the stairs to the office. The desk has been rifled through, and the bookcases have been emptied. I rest my gun on top the mantle, and press my thumb to one of the small glass tile squares that decorate the fireplace. It scans my thumbprint, and a small key pad slides out vertically from the wall just beneath it. I enter the combination, and a longer panel slides open between two of the beams in the mantle. The briefcase is still intact. I retrieve it and my gun and make my way back downstairs.

By now the adrenaline has dissolved and rage is beginning to take over. They were here, goddammit. There were here, and Bella is gone.

Just as I get to the bottom of the stairs, I see it. There's knife stuck to the back of the front door pinning a picture in place. It's one from the box in the bedroom—Bella on my back down at the Navy Pier. I pluck the picture from the door and turn it over. The blood in my veins runs ice cold as I read the neatly written message, and my greatest fear comes to life.

_"Your wife is a fighter. Let's make a trade. You know where to find me."_


	10. Prompt 21 The Deep End

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**thetwilight25 dot com**

**Prompt: #21**

**Pen Name: bebeginja**

**Pairing/Character(s): Edward/Bella**

**Rating: T**

**Word Count: 500**

**Photo prompts can be found here:**

**thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts**

* * *

_"We're gonna run for drinks, let yourself in, be back in a bit." _

Rose's text comes through just as Bella is pulling into the Hales's driveway. She parks—her old red truck sputtering and coughing before it finally gives up—and makes her way around the side of the familiar Hale house. The crunch of the river rock walkway, the glare of the sun off the pool, and the heat radiating from the patio elicit feelings of nostalgia from spending childhood summers here.

She walks to the shallow end of the pool, and drops her bag and towel at a lounge chair. This is her favorite spot. It's inevitable for the guys to get carried away in the water, and she knew by now to claim a spot as far away as possible.

She lifts her tank top over her head, adjusts her bikini top, and secures her ear buds. She unbuttons her shorts and slips them over her hips. With the pool all to herself, she settles back with her iPod to work on her tan. She'll need the color to last at least through fall.

After a few songs, the late afternoon sun and the accompanying humidity are too much, and Bella decides to beat the others into the water and take a dip before they get back. She is startled when she stands and notices someone else on the other side of the pool. She tenses, catches her breath, and relaxes when she realizes who it is.

Edward.

He's just standing there watching her.

They stare at each other for a moment before she turns and walks toward the deep end of the pool. Edward follows her silently on the other side. His eyes don't leave her.

"When did you get back?" she asks, feigning indifference.

"Last night."

"How long this time?" She turns at the ladder to face him.

"For good," he says, dipping his chin to emphasize the significance of his statement.

Bella looks up, astonished, but hides her excitement behind narrowed eyes. Edward's gaze burns hotter than the August sun.

She takes two steps forward, and, on her third, walks right off the edge, plunging feet first below the surface of the cool water. A roar of bubbles follows her in when Edward jumps, too, and before she realizes what's happening, his hands are pulling at her hips and his lips are smashing into hers. She has to fight her natural instinct to wrap her legs around his waist. Instead, she pushes away and swims toward the wall at the shallow end. The safe end.

Edward rises, slowly exposing the body Bella only remembers in her daydreams. The light reflecting off of his wet skin and hair makes him sparkle. He walks toward Bella, backing her into the wall. Under the water, one long, slender finger traces a line along her skin just above the waistband of her string bikini, while another tucks a heavy lock of hair behind her ear.

"For good, Bella."


	11. Prompt 3 Finish Line

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**thetwilight25 dot com**

**Prompt: #3**

**Pen Name: bebeginja**

**Pairing/Character(s): Bella, Alice**

**Rating: T**

**Word Count: 497**

**Photo prompts can be found here:**

**thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts**

* * *

The sun is just beginning to disappear behind the trees by the time I make it to the end of my journey. My muscles ache with that good kind of burn, relieved by the cool of the early summer air as it breezes over the light layer of perspiration covering my skin.

This is where it will end.

I stop in the middle of the road and sit. There is no threat of traffic, as this street and the others surrounding it are already closed off for tomorrow's events. It's quiet, peaceful. The stillness is a stark contrast to the knot of avid unrest twisting in my belly. I let the silence fall over me; let it quell the stirring of uneasiness, as I take a few deep, cleansing breaths.

Tomorrow I'll be running my first half marathon ever. My first "official" run ever.

I only started training six months ago, inspired by my marathon-runner sister, Alice. Alice, the full-time working mother of two. Alice, the amazingly-talented-but-never-published songwriter. Alice, the selfless sister, mother, friend, and wife. Alice, the firecracker. Alice, the Energizer bunny. The optimist. The thinker. The creative, the encourager.

Alice, who is now on her twenty-seventh week of chemotherapy.

So, former-marathon-runner sister, Alice.

Being so close in age, we were always grouped in conversations together as "the girls". And of course, being one year apart in school, we had always been somewhat competitive with each other. Nothing more than the normal sibling rivalry.

But this is not a competition. Watching her health wither over the past year, and seeing how she's fought . . . I can't compete with that.

Her hair is long gone, and her cheekbones protrude from her face. Nausea and fatigue are her daily enemies. And yet, with all that the cancer has taken from her physical body, nothing could diminish that girl's spirit. There isn't a single cell in this universe or an army of thousands that could dim her light. Even from her hospital bed she manages to love on everyone in her life. She is still the most beautiful person I know, and she will always be my first best friend.

For all the times she's looked out for me, counseled me, bandaged my scrapes, held me when I cried, I wish I could fight for her. I know that's impossible. Instead, I'll use what I have—my health, my able body. I'll do what she wishes she could and what I've never done, in hopes of giving her one more brilliant smile. Of giving her heart what it needs for one more hour, one more day.

Running in tomorrow's marathon to benefit the Fred Hutchinson Cancer Research Center, I'll run the farthest I've ever run as if Alice herself were waiting for me here at the finish line.

I lie back, cross my legs, and put my hands behind my head.

I smile up at the cloudless blue sky.

Let tomorrow come.

I'm ready.


	12. Prompt 20 Hiding

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**thetwilight25 dot com**

**Prompt: #20**

**Pen Name: bebeginja**

**Pairing/Character(s): Esme, Edward, Bella**

**Rating: T**

**Word Count: 497**

**Photo prompts can be found here:**

**thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts**

* * *

Esme shivered as lightening lit up the room. The wind howled, rattling the thin window pane, and thunder rolled in the distance. The old house creaked, and she turned up her classical music to tune out the sounds of the approaching storm.

As she sat among the piles of boxes, most still half full and not completely unpacked, she wondered how soon it would be before they really settled in here. A new town, a big, old farm house she bought for a steal. And with Edward starting a new school, she was hoping for an easy transition. She was hoping they could begin again here, start fresh.

"Mom!" Edward shouted over her music, startling her out of her thoughts. Esme looked up to see her son leaning around the door frame to peer into the study.

"What is it, honey?"

"I'm gonna go upstairs and work on my boxes, okay?"

"Sure, honey, just take a flashlight with you. Sounds like the storm is getting closer, and I don't know about the wiring in this old house yet."

"Okaayyyy . . . " His voice trailed off, and she heard his footsteps on the hardwood stairs soon after.

Esme got caught up in Debussy and Chopin, and was occasionally distracted by the old photo albums she was unpacking. Outside, the storm raged on. The lightening came more frequently, and the thunder followed sooner. Esme decided it was time for a break, and went to the stairs to call Edward down.

From the bottom of the stairs, she could hear muffled voices floating down the hallway. Esme cocked her head to the side to make sure she wasn't hearing things. Perhaps he was reading out loud? Having just moved in, they did not have cable service yet, so it couldn't be a tv.

A chill once again ran through her body, as she slowly made her way up the stairs. Halfway up the staircase, a white flash lit up the house, and then all the lights went out.

Esme gasped, and her legs nearly gave out. "_Edward . . . he'll be frightened_," she thought. Something like an electrical current raced through her body; over her scalp through her hair and down her back to the bottoms of her feet. She hurried up the staircase; her eyes adjusting to the lack of light, and the chill becoming more intense with every step. When she finally reached Edward's bedroom door, she could practically see her breath right there in the hallway. The voices were clearer now, whispering and giggling right behind the door.

Slowly, she opened it. Edward's windows were wide open. The curtains were billowing wildly from the wind rushing into the room.

On his bed were two figures hiding under a sheet tent; their silhouettes cast by his flashlight.

_Two_ voices. _Two_ bodies.

Edward's face appeared from under the sheet, as Esme stood, wide eyed, breathless, and immobilized by fear.

"Mom, this is my friend, Isabella. She said she used to live here."


	13. Prompt 4 New Neighbors

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**thetwilight25 dot com**

**Prompt: #4**

**Pen Name: bebeginja**

**Pairing/Character(s): Edward/Bella**

**Rating: M**

**Word Count: 496**

**Photo prompts can be found here:**

**thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts**

* * *

I have new neighbors, and they're driving me insane.

Not only do their cars take up most of the parking on our narrow residential street, but they've got people constantly coming and going, resulting in that damn motion detecting light above their garage to flash steadily throughout the night. Right through my bedroom window.

How many people do they have living there, anyway?

Tonight, it's their music again. The incessant pounding, the starting and stopping . . . I can't handle it. I toss and turn, trying to muffle the noise with my pillow for nearly an hour before I decide I've had enough. I throw my comforter back, slip my feet into a pair of flip flops, and stomp through my yard to the driveway next door. The motion light signals my arrival like an alarm.

_BAM-BAM-BAM_

If these assholes make me bruise my knuckles banging on this door, there will be hell to pay.

Just as I raise my fist to beat on the door again, it swings open, and I freeze with one fist in the air and another on my hip.

He's tall, mid-twenties, with killer green eyes and a day's worth of stubble. Tatted biceps peek out beneath a threadbare white t-shirt. One hand rests up on the door jam, a guitar is slung across his body, and a guitar pick is gripped between his lips. His hair is a perfect mess, long on top and buzzed close on the sides.

All of the rage that fueled my trip over here has dissipated, and I'm suddenly aware that I am standing at my neighbor's door in my baby doll sleep tank and boy shorts.

Why am I here again?

"Hi," I say, sticking out my hand. "I'm Isabella Swan. I live next door."

My neighbor looks down at my hand, then to my chest, my neck, my mouth, and finally meets my eyes. One side of his mouth rises into the sexiest crooked smile. He removes the pick from his mouth and opens the door wider. He smacks his palm into mine and lifts our hands in an exaggerated, slow motion hand shake.

"Edward Cullen."

Christ, he's a Brit.

His accent and the deep rasp of his voice, combined with the rough of his long, slender fingers, render me speechless. I stand stunned, with wide eyes and an open mouth.

Peering around him, I can see that the garage has been made into a make shift studio of some sort, complete with a sound system and mock stage.

"You have a band?" I ask, although it's obvious.

"Yeah, you wanna come in? We practice most nights. I hope it doesn't disturb you."

"Oh, no! Not at all." Lying doesn't usually come so easily to me.

Ignoring the fact that just fifteen minutes ago I wanted to murder someone, and forgetting that I'm still in my sleep clothes, I follow him.

And I'm certain this won't be the last time I do.


	14. Prompt 7 The Walk Home

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**thetwilight25 dot com**

**Prompt: #7**

**Pen Name: bebeginja**

**Pairing/Character(s): Jasper, Edward, Bella**

**Rating: T**

**Word Count: 482**

**Photo prompts can be found here:**

**thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts**

* * *

It was twilight in mid-November. The cool, damp, fall air was just beginning to give way to the biting chill of the approaching winter. The sun had dipped behind the Olympic Mountains, lighting the sky with its fading brilliance. I had a lot to think about that night. My thoughts were scattered and my heart was burdened. I chose the long walk home, hoping the fresh air and time to myself would help me sort things out.

I must have been lost in thought, on auto-pilot. By the time I reached the line of trees where the trail home disappeared into the forest, it was almost completely dark out. I knew these woods so well, I didn't need light to guide me, but I should have been more cautious.

It was around the halfway point that I began to hear rustling in the pine canopy above me. I slowed my pace and evened my breathing. A breeze wafted above me—my name carried on the whisper of the wind. My name again, followed by echoes of laughter again and again, halted me on the trail.

I squared my shoulders and stood ready.

Then, movement behind me. More movement a short distance away to the right, and then more a little further up the trail.

I lowered my hood from my head.

Jasper fell from somewhere above, landing with a heavy thud just inches in front of me.

"Jas, what is this?"

He glanced over his shoulder and turned back around to face me with his head cocked, his smile lifted higher on one side. "Come with us, Ed."

"Jas, I told you . . . when I'm ready." My eyes roamed the darkness surrounding us, hoping the others could hear me. Garrett and Em and probably more were somewhere out there, watching and waiting.

"They're losing patience, Ed. You should be like us now." The glow of his eyes fixed on me like a laser tracer, marking me for death. Or, rather, undeath.

"This isn't something I can decide overnight, man," I said, shoving my hands into my pockets and relaxing my stance. I was not afraid of these guys. I'd known them since grade school. There was only one thing I was afraid of, one thing delaying my decision to join them. "You know I can't leave-"

Jasper interrupted me with a hearty chuckle. "Oh, dude, you didn't hear?"

Another set of glowing eyes appeared from the trees behind my best friend.

"Edward," she called. Jasper was still smirking at me, no doubt admiring the shock transforming my entire demeanor. I knew he could hear my heartbeat accelerate, he could sense the anxiety numbing every one of my senses.

"Edward, it's okay now. We're gonna be alright. Come with us. We're all waiting for you now." Bella's voice was so sure, so calm and confident.

So beautiful.

Oh, my sweet Bella, what have you done?


	15. Prompt 12 The Stairwell

**The Twilight Twenty-Five**

**thetwilight25 dot com**

**Prompt: #12**

**Pen Name: bebeginja**

**Pairing/Character(s): Bella**

**Rating: M**

**Word Count: 498**

**Photo prompts can be found here:**

**thetwilight25 dot com/round-eight/prompts**

* * *

Tonight was fun, but I can't wait to get back to my apartment and get comfortable.

The girls had finally coerced me out of the office to commemorate Alice finishing grad school. It had been a while since I had a reason to get all dressed up and, literally, let my hair down.

"I parked upstairs. You guys go ahead. I'll call you tomorrow." I give Alice and Rose goodbye hugs and kisses, and turn to leave.

I make my way to the parking garage elevator, and push the "up" button three times before I figure it isn't coming. "The stairs it is," I mumble to myself. Finding the stairwell in the corner of the garage, I open the heavy metal door and look around, cautiously checking my surroundings.

It's two flights of stairs to the next floor. My feet ache as I climb the stairs in my heels. Before I make it all the way up, I hear the metal door down below screech open and close with a loud bang. Having a cop for a father has made me more prepared than the average young woman, but I am instantly on high alert. I hastily climb the rest of the stairs without panicking.

_Stay calm and get out of here._

As I reach for the door on the second floor, a strong hand closes around my arm and swings me around. The force of the pull slams my back against the wall, and I stiffen just in time to spare my head from bouncing off it.

Before I can recover, my attacker grabs me by my shoulders and throws me down. I turn and lunge forward, trying to stop my fall. My momentum causes the heel of my right shoe to buckle and snap right off.

_Oh, hell no. These shoes are brand new, damn it!_

I stay on the ground so I can take a few seconds to gather my senses, and my courage.

He approaches me slowly, breathing heavy. "Damn, girl, didn't your daddy teach you to stay away from dark corners and watch for bad guys?"

_Oh, you have no idea what daddy taught me._

He's standing over me now. His legs are straddled on either side of my body, and he's crouching down to get a better look at me.

I take a deep breath while quietly toeing off my heels, and before his outstretched hand can touch me again, I sit up and punch him straight in the crotch with all my strength. He yelps and doubles over, and I quickly crawl under and through his legs. I jump to my feet and kick him in his back, pushing him into the wall in front of him.

"You messed with the wrong size four, asshole."

I take a step and knee him in the ribs, and then bring my elbow down on the back of his neck. He falls with a moan to the concrete.

"And _that's_ for the shoes, mother fucker!"


End file.
